


White Coats and Stethoscopes

by dartist123



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Constant Geeky References, Destiel - Freeform, Doctor!Dean, Fluff, M/M, Possible Hijinks & Shenanigans, Sexuality Crisis, Some Plot, Some angst, a lot of snark, teacher!Cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:10:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2848754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dartist123/pseuds/dartist123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is a thirty-something doctor who lives alone and has no life outside of work. But when he meets a blue-eyed stranger on a train, his story begins to get a bit more complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Early Morning Traffic

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first attempt at a fanfic, and I decided to start with a Destiel fic because I love them so much. I hope you like this story! It's still in progress, so bear with me as I finish writing it.  
> Leave a comment with any compliments or criticisms- I really wanna hear from you if you read this!
> 
> Have fun!  
> I guess?  
> Is that something you say?  
> I don't know.  
> Haven fun, guys!

The low, monotonous whine of the heart monitor is the only sound he can hear.

Doctors and nurses, people with white coats and stethoscopes, rush into the room and surround the bed, yelling to each other. One man tries to pull the four-year old away, but he won’t budge. The child clings to the side of the mattress, desperately holding on to the hand of the inert woman lying atop it. Not one sound escapes his lips, but his cheeks are stained with the tears pouring from his eyes. He stares into those of the woman’s, which were gleaming with love and hope only seconds ago. Now they lie cold and lifeless, a dead glare frozen on her face. He reaches out with his free hand as those around him seem to lose their energy and stand silent. His fingers reach her forehead and he draws them down her face, closing her eyes.

“Dean,” a voice calls from behind him. “Boy, come here.” The child turns, finding a gruff older man in a trucker hat standing there, his arms outstretched. The idea that this man should see him this way hurts the boy even further. He shakes his head wildly, tears falling from his face, and he runs out the door.

 _Be strong for me Dean_ , she had said. _Be strong._

Dean wasn’t going to let his mother down so soon.

~

Dean Winchester is woken by the shrill blaring of his alarm clock.

He groans and reaches his arm out to turn it off, fumbling around in the darkness. His eyes are glued shut and he doesn’t quite feel the urge to force them open. Collapsing back onto his pillow, Dean tries to recall his dreams. All he can hold on to is a warm feeling of being loved, and being happy. He decides it’s enough.

Dean throws the sheets off his body and clambers out of bed. He parts the curtains on the window and peels open his eyes. The world outside is still sleeping, but the city below is as awake as ever. Early morning traffic and blinking neon signage litter the streets. Dean sighs and stretches his arms out, and yawns powerfully. His muscles tense from waking up, preparing for the day ahead.

After showering and dressing himself, Dean wanders into the kitchen of his small apartment to make himself breakfast. He shoves bread in the toaster and pours milk in a glass when his phone rings.

‘ _Carry on my wayward son, there’ll be peace when you are done_ -’

“What’s up?” Dean answers the call, his tone groggy.

‘Mornin’ Dean,’ the voice on the other end replies.

“Sammy, please tell me you’re calling for a reason other than to bother me at six o’clock in the goddamn morning.” He begins to regret picking up the phone. Letting Carry On Wayward Son carry on would’ve been far preferable to this.

‘Fine, fine, I’ll get to the point,’ Sam responds. ‘Just wanted to make sure you’re coming tonight.’

“And you had to call me to ask me that at _six o’clock in the morning_?”

‘You know as well as I do that you don’t answer your phone at work.’

“I’m busy at work, Sammy.”

‘I know, Dean, and I respect that. Just means I gotta call you early if I wanna talk to you in time. Hence our current conversation.’

“Who the hell says ‘hence’?” Dean snorts.

‘Educated people, I suppose.’

“Fuck you too, bitch.”

‘Jerk. So, are you coming or what?’ Sam asks, and the elder Winchester sighs. Tonight won’t be fun, but he won’t let his little brother down.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there. Don’t expect much from me, though, I’ll be tired as hell.”

‘Ellen really didn’t cut your hours today?’

“She offered to, but I said no.”

‘What? Why?’ Dean could hear the condescending whine in his brother’s voice start.

“Sammy, just be glad I’m coming.”

‘Okay, okay. Have a good day, Dean. See you tonight.’

“Yeah, you too. Bye.” Dean ends the call and sets the phone on the counter. He butters the finished toast and drinks his milk in silence.

 _Tonight’s gonna be so much fun_ , he thinks.

Birthday parties aren’t his thing.

Especially when they’re for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only the first chapter, so bear with me. The story will get going soon. I'm not sure how long each chapter will be- we'll see I guess.
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Like I said, please leave a commment!  
> Or a kudos!  
> Or both!


	2. Vibrations of the Train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who've read/ given kudos! Here's the second verse, longer than the first!
> 
> Have fun!  
> I guess that's a thing I'm doing now

The hospital is busy as ever when he arrives for his shift.

The red-haired receptionist greets him with a smile and Dean heads upstairs. After donning his scrubs, he finds Ellen waiting for him at the counter, clipboard in hand.

“Morning, Dr. Winchester,” she says warmly.

“Morning, Dr. Harvelle.” Dean smiles, but groans when the blond woman pulls him in for a hug.

“Happy birthday, kid.” Ellen draws back and tousles his hair. She raises an eyebrow. “You know you really don’t have to spend it here, right?”

“Ellen, it’s fine,” Dean protests, “I want to.”

“Fine,” she pouts. “But you better get out of here in time for that party. I will not be the only MD there, hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Call me ma’am again and you’ll definitely be getting there on time, ‘cause you won’t have a job here to keep you.”

“Love you too, Ellen,” Dean winks.

“Boys,” she sighs and walks away, leaving the clipboard for Dean to peruse.

He begins his rounds and checks in on his patients, making sure everyone’s treatments are running smoothly. The elderly Asian woman in 11C tells him a story about how her grandson is in advanced placement classes. The man down the hall from her ropes Dean in with his daily spiel about snarky bacteria and grey Cadillacs. The day moves quickly, the only hiccups a couple close calls with some critical cases and several nurses making birthday-related passes at him. Dean turns them all down. His only reprieve from them is talking to the receptionist.

“They’re just horny and want some Winchester booty,” she says, typing furiously behind the counter.

“The internet ruins you, Charlie,” Dean mutters while he fills out paperwork.

“More like the other way around. Hacking is not the life of the innocent.”

“Please tell me you’re not hacking into the Pentagon at work again.”

“Of course not, I learned my lesson,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “This is the CIA.”

“I’m leaving,” Dean announces, hoping to keep some semblance of deniability.

“Have fun with the horny nurses,” she calls out. “See you tonight!”

~

Leaving the hospital hours later, Dean reluctantly takes the train south, out of the city, towards New Jersey.

He spends the ride dreading the party, and trying to come up with ways to leave as soon as possible. Ellen would rebuff any work-related excuses, and Sam wouldn’t accept anything less to let Dean go. Jess definitely wouldn’t.

Dean opts to stare out the window and let his thoughts stray. The clouds hang low, but the sky is bright blue. He watches buildings, then fields, then forests blur by. His head leans against the glass and the vibrations of the train began to lull him to sleep.

“Excuse me,” says a gruff voice to his left, “is this seat taken?” Dean breaks out of his reverie to shake his head in response. A man sits down next to him and looks straight ahead. Dean takes account of his new traveling partner.

The man has short, black hair and bright blue eyes, like the sky outside. He’s wearing a trenchcoat over his suit jacket and a determined look on his face. Dean follows his gaze, only to assume the man is staring at absolutely nothing besides the space in front of him.

“Is something bothering you?” he asks Dean, sounding not offended by Dean’s staring, but rather concerned at Dean’s look of confusion.

“No, I was just- what are you looking at, man?”

“Nothing. I was simply facing forward. I am told it is where one should face when riding a locomotive.”

“Sure you were,” Dean starts, now even more confused by the man’s behavior. “First time on a train?”

“Indeed.” The man’s gaze on Dean loosens. “I am Castiel.”

“Really?” Dean coughs.

“Yes. Why?” He cocks his head, looking like a lost puppy.

“Nothing, ‘s just an odd name, I guess.”

“It is an angel name.”

“Sure it is. I’m Dean.”

“It is nice to meet you, Dean.” He glances down and then faces forward again. “Happy birthday to you, as well.”

“Wh- How’d you know it’s my-”

“There is a ‘Happy Birthday’ sticker on your shoulder. I assumed it was meant for you.” Dean looks at his shirt and finds the pink menace, ripping it off.

“Dammit Charlie,” Dean swears under his breath. Castiel looks back at him.

“My name is Castiel,” he corrects. Dean smiles.

“I know, I was talking about someone else. Not likely to forget  _your_  name, Cas.” He chuckles, receiving only a confused look from the black-haired man. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, and returns to facing ahead. Dean notices the corners of his mouth are turned upwards. They spend the rest of the ride in amicable silence.

Coincidentally, they both rise to exit the train at the same stop. They smile and leave together, chatting along the way. Dean learns a lot about the other man. Castiel is an elementary school teacher, and he loves his job. He is single, and cares for his family above all else. His parents adopted him as a baby, and he grew up with two sisters and two brothers, all older. Castiel is visiting his sister, Anna, in Trenton, where she lives with her boyfriend, Michael.

“I am not quite sure if Michael deserves her,” Castiel states in what Dean has come to know as Castiel’s natural matter-of-fact tone. “But I am also unsure if she deserves him, either.”

“Well, my brother, for one, definitely doesn’t deserve his girlfriend,” Dean laughs. Castiel pauses to consider this, then chuckles as well. Dean is about to ask more about this Michael when Castiel’s pocket rings. The shorter man jumps in shock and Dean laughs again.

“Dude, it’s just your phone.”

“Ah, yes.” Castiel retrieves the vibrating cell from his pants. “You are correct.” He checks the name. “It is Anna, one minute please.”

“Of course, take your time.” Dean waves him off and Castiel turns around to talk. Dean stares at the timetables for the local buses, deciding which one to take to Sam’s house. He picks the one that’ll bring him as close to ‘fashionably late’ as possible. Castiel comes back with a more consternated look than usual.

“What’s up, Cas?” Dean asks.

“That was Anna.”

“Yeah, you said that much. What’d she say?”

“She just got called away for a business trip in Indiana.”

“Damn, that sucks. So what’re you gonna do?”

“I do not know. I suppose I will take the train back and go home. I may be able to get back the vacation days I took off for this.” From his face, Dean could assume Castiel didn’t really think he would. He looks at the scruffy man with pity, and makes a decision.

“You could come with me, if you want.” Castiel looks to him, his head cocked once again.

“What?”

“You know, just so your trip doesn’t go to waste. Like I said, we’re having a party. Good food, nice people, at least one friend,” Dean gestures to himself. “Wanna come?” Castiel hesitates, his unrelenting stare relenting even less, but his mouth widens to a grin and he nods.

“Okay, yes. Thank you, Dean,” he says, “I would love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's chapter two! Hope you liked it! 
> 
> Leave a kudos and/or let me know what you think in the comments!


	3. A Winchester Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks to those who have read/ given kudos! Here's the next chapter because I have it and don't feel like waiting to post it sooooo
> 
> Have fun!  
> oh god why have i started doing that

The house explodes with cheers when Sam opens the door and announces that Dean’s arrived. Sam pulls him inside, and becomes puzzled by the strange man that follows his brother in.

“Sammy, this is Castiel. We met on the train. Hope you don’t mind, I invited him over,” Dean says. Castiel nods his head at Sam and holds out his hand.

“It is nice to meet you, Sam.” Sam’s eyebrow is still raised, but he shakes Castiel’s hand.

“Nice to meet you too, I guess. And it’s your party, Dean, invite whomever you want.”

“Of course you say _whom_ ever, you nerd,” Dean snorts.

“Whomever was the correct word in that context, as Sam was using it as the direct object of his sentence,” Castiel points out. Sam laughs and slaps an arm around him.

“I like this guy,” he concludes, and a horde of other party-goers come to greet Dean and wish him well. When Dean’s had enough, Sam ushers the him and Castiel into the kitchen where two blond women wait. The younger one runs towards Dean and pulls him into a hug.

“Happy birthday, Dean!” Jess yells, crushing Dean’s ribs. She lets go and looks at Castiel. “Um, who’s this?”

“This is Castiel, Dean’s friend, whom he invited, here, tonight,” Sam states,glancing at Dean out of the corner of his eye.

“Okay then. Nice to meet you, Castiel.”

“You as well. You must be Jess,” he says. Sam and Jess share a quick look of surprise.

“Got me there.” She turns around and grabs the other woman, Ellen. “This is Ellen, Dean’s boss and surrogate mother figure.”

“Hello, Castiel,” Ellen takes in Castiel with narrowed eyes. She turns them on Dean. “Dean, I didn’t know you were bringing a friend.”

“Neither did I,” Dean admits. He shrugs. “Now, where’s the booze?”

“Go wrestle Bobby for that six-pack he’s claimed,” Ellen suggests. “The old man’s over on the couch.” She eyes Castiel again, and adds, “Introduce him to your friend here, too.” Dean does as he’s told and drags Castiel back into the living room, which is adorned with blue banners that declare ‘ _It’s a boy!_ ’ and randomly hung strings of Christmas lights- the traditional, cheap decorations for a Winchester birthday. Dean winds his way through the crowd, Castiel following closely behind, attached to his new friend by the wrist. When they make it to the couch, Dean flops down beside an older bearded man wearing a worn baseball cap and half of a six-pack.

“Finally made it to yer own party, huh?” The man grunts. Dean grunts alongside him and grabs a beer from the man’s lap. Castiel shifts his feet awkwardly from his standing position next to the sofa.

“Oh, Bobby, this is Castiel. Castiel, this is Bobby,” Dean says with a wave of his hand between the two. Bobby gives Castiel the same look Ellen did, sizing him up.

“You Dean’s friend?” He asks.

“I believe so,” Castiel answers nonchalantly. He glances at Dean for a reassuring smile.

“Well then, any friend of Dean is probably gonna need a drink,” Bobby says, handing Castiel a beer. Dean chuckles and elbows him. Castiel accepts the beer and carefully opens it. He sips it sparingly, every time making a different face. Bobby lowers an eyebrow at Dean, but he simply laughs.

“He’s weird like that,” he explains, and they delve into conversation. Castiel listens intently as they discuss Dean’s work at the hospital and how Bobby’s business of running a garage is going. They talk about cars and engines, and Castiel takes note of how animated Dean seems to be when arguing over cars, and how he talks about it with the same vigor he does with talking about his medical practices. Castiel himself is roped into the conversation when Bobby asks about him.

“So what do you git up to, Castiel?” He pronounces Castiel’s name slowly, trying it out.

“I am a teacher at an elementary school in New York.”

“A teacher? A respectable guy like yourself, hanging around this idjit?” Bobby drinks his beer with a smile as Dean punches him in the shoulder. “So what brings you down here in the first place?”

“I was meant to visit my sister, Anna, but she was called away on work. Dean invited me here to make up for it.”

“And you two boys just met on that train, right?”

“Indeed.”

“He tell you anythin’ about us?” Bobby spares Dean a glance.

“Yes, he explained his family on the ride over here.”

“What’d he tell you about me?” Bobby asks, smiling wide. Dean groans.

“Your name is Bobby Singer, and the woman in the kitchen, Ellen, is your sister. After Dean and Sam’s mother died, the two of you raised them into adulthood. You married Lawrence sheriff Jody Mills five years ago. You always wear that hat,” Castiel points to Bobby’s head, “and you tend to call Dean and his brother ‘idjits’.” Bobby takes a moment to process Castiel’s deadpan delivery. Dean squirms in his seat.

“Balls, he told you all that?”

“I also told him what a grumpy old man you are,” Dean joked.

“Yeah well, I’m not the only one getting old. Thirty-six years old,” Bobby smacks Dean’s shoulder, “Happy birthday, boy.”

“Yeah, thanks Bobby.” Dean appears about to say something else when a redheaded woman jumps onto the couch next to Dean.

“Dean!” She yells. “Happy anniversary of being expelled out of a birthing canal!”

“ _That’s_ definitely a new way to say it. Hi Charlie.”

“Just be glad I didn’t make a TARDIS joke when mentioning your mother’s-”

“And this is my friend, Castiel. Cas, this nerd here is Charlie. I told you about her,” Dean interjects. Charlie inspects the scruffy man, and grabs his hand to shake.

“Yes, the hacker.” Castiel lets his hand be crushed by Charlie’s grip.

“Hacker _extraordinaire_ ,” she corrects and releases her grasp on Castiel. “I’m quite amazing. How do you know Dean?”

“Met ‘im on the train,” Bobby answers from behind his beer. Charlie shrugs and looks at Dean expectantly.

“So where’s Lisa?” she asks him, and Dean’s eyes widen. He slaps his face with his palm. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Shit,” Dean moans, “I was gonna pick her up on my way here from the train station. I got distracted. Dammit.”

“She’s not gonna be happy.”

“I got that, thanks.”

“No big loss though. She’s not right for you anyway.”

“You just want her for yourself,” Dean laughs.

“The heart wants what the heart wants,” Charlie states with her chin high. “Now, beer me.” She lies down on Dean’s side and holds out her hand.

“I’ll assume you want some crack in yours,” Dean jests as he hands her a can.

“Yes, please,” she says and pops open her beer.

“Who is Lisa?” Castiel asks.

“You told him all that crap about us and you didn’t mention yer girlfriend?” Bobby grunts and Dean shifts on the couch. Castiel’s head tilts forward slightly.

“She’s not my girlfriend, old man. Just my ex,” Dean says.

“She totally didn’t deserve you,” Charlie offers.

“And she deserves you?” Charlie shrugs and sips her beer.

“No. But then again, does anyone?” They laugh, but Castiel doesn’t seem settled.

“I am confused,” he informs them. Charlie smirks.

“You and me both. So, Castiel, what do you do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think of the chapter/story so far in the comments!  
> Kudos are also very much appreciated!


	4. Objectively Delicious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Four: Objectively Delicious, or, in Which I Get to Write an Incredibly Corny Dream Sequence
> 
> Have fun!  
> whyyyyy am i doing this

The party winds down around 11 o’clock.

Most of the guests have left, leaving only close family and friends. Dean stands next to the fireplace, chatting with Charlie. Bobby’s wife Jody, who arrived late, is talking with her husband and his sister on the couch. In the kitchen, Sam and Jess have sequestered Castiel in a conversation about education. Dean’s eyes drift to Castiel as he gives his friend his opinion on Lord of the Rings.

“While I appreciate your thoughts on how Frodo sucks, my question was about Star Wars, and I’m afraid the Shire did not exist a long, long time ago in that galaxy far, far away.”

“What?” Dean says, still not looking directly at Charlie. She rolls her eyes and turns around.

“What are you even looking at?” Charlie looks around, and notices Castiel in the kitchen. She turns back to Dean with a smirk.

“What?” Dean asks again.

“Castiel seems nice,” she says.

“Yeah, he is,” Dean slowly confirms, unsure of why the topic changed so dramatically.

“Pretty cute, too,” she adds.

“How would you even know?”

“Hey, I may be as gay as Dumbledore, but I’m not dead,” Charlie protests, crossing her arms. “And that man is objectively delicious.”

“Well lucky him, then.” Dean leans against the mantle, smiling at Charlie. She doesn’t respond, only saunters over to the reclining chair and pulls Dean down with her. “What are you doing?” he laughs as he falls on top of her.

“I’m drunk and tired and I need an adequate pillow. You shall do,” she sighs and lays her head on top of Dean.

“Sweet dreams, my little Albus,” Dean says. He hiccups, and realizes he’s drunk as well. “On second thought, Headmaster, maybe we should head home.”

“Shhhh, five more minutes,” Charlie hums and presses a finger to Dean’s lips. “Mama’s gettin’ her beauty sleep.”

“Come on, cupcake, you get all white-girly when you’re overtired.” Dean tries to push her up but is met with mumbling that sounds something like ‘Exactly why I’m sleeping right now, bae’. He gives up and lies back on the chair, closing his eyes. He falls asleep immediately.

_The taxi door opens and a tall, black-haired woman in a red satin dress climbs in and sits next to Dean. Her dark brown eyes take him in with relish._

_“Hey there,” she says. “Long time no see.”_

_“Hey yourself,” Dean replies, pulling her closer._

_“Oh Dean,” Lisa moans, shifting around to sit on his lap. She tugs on Dean’s jacket, kissing him passionately as he lets her take it off. “You’re so manly and hot.” He laces his fingers in her hair and licks her lips open, deepening the kiss._

_“I know, babe,” he says in between breaths, fumbling at the back of her dress to unzip it. He looks down and realizes she’s wearing a trenchcoat instead, so he gently removes the tan garment from her shoulders._

_“Oh Dean,” she says again, her voice low, and she slips her hands underneath Dean’s shirt. “Your muscles are so big.”_

_“Yeah,” Dean mutters, grabbing her hip with one hand, grinding it down against him, and caressing her chin with the other. Her stubble is rough on his fingers, and he angles his head to kiss down her cheek, licking the small hints of a beard._

_“Oh Dean,” she whispers in his ear, and her pants push harder on his. “You are perfect.” Dean leans back, breaking the kiss, and looks into the bright blue eyes staring back at him, the short black hair his fingers have lost themselves in, the pink, bruising lips parted ever so slightly._

_“No, you are,” Dean says softly, and leans back in, kissing him furiously with an urgent passion he can’t recall feeling before. “You’re perfect, Cas.”_

Dean wakes with a start to find two sets of eyes on him. Charlie is standing in front of him, appearing quite offended, gone from her previous position of sleeping on top of him. He can venture a guess as to why she got up and is so peeved at him, judging from the tightness in his pants. The other set of eyes seem to have popped right out of his dreams. Castiel stands beside Charlie, looking quite perplexed by the entire situation.

Castiel.

 _What_ , Dean thinks.

_What the hell. Did I just-_

“Sweet dreams, huh, Dean?” Charlie muses. Dean blushes, hoping the pink in his cheeks can be passed off as a symptom of his drunken state. He clearly must’ve gotten extremely drunk. Clearly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, moving to hide the tent with a pillow.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel asserts.

“Do you ever?” Dean responds, wincing when he sees Castiel frown.

“Don’t mind him, Castiel, Dean’s always grumpy when he wakes up from a wet dream.” Charlie places a sympathetic hand on the man’s shoulder, shooting a disapproving look at Dean.

“It was _not_ a wet dream. Just…” Dean looks back and forth between the two. “Weird.”

“Sure it wasn’t. Just like how I don’t dream of Galadriel making sweet, elven love to me whenever I watch the trilogy. Now,” Charlie grabs Dean’s wrist and pulls him up, “the three of us are getting out of here a sharing a cab to the train station.”

“Sam and Jess-”

“Are already sleeping in their bedroom. They said to tell you, ‘Go home, Dean, you’re drunk.’ Then they laughed and went upstairs.”

“Freaking moose and she-moose.”

“Neither your brother nor his girlfriend are a moose,” Castiel points out.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Go home, Dean, you’re drunk,” Charlie sighs.

“Shut up, Charlie,” Dean smiles and drapes an arm over her shoulder for support. They begin walking towards the door, but Dean stumbles. Castiel quickly catches him, and holds up Dean’s other side, opposite Charlie. Dean freezes at the contact.

“Are you okay, Dean?” Castiel asks, staring at him, his face only inches away. Dean feels his sanity wane, and his head tilts to the side.

“Perfect, Cas,” Dean slurs and lets them guide him out of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks so much for readin/ leaving kudos/ subscribing/ commenting! Means SO much to me! I'm glad you guys are liking the story so far!
> 
> It is quite possible this is as mature as the story will get, but it's also quite possible it may get much more explicit. I haven't decided yet. If you have an opinion on that matter, or any thoughts on the story whatsoever, please leave a comment!
> 
> Also, kudos are still very much appreciated! :D


	5. Just Like a Harry Potter Fanfiction I Read

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So because I'm unhealthy and crave approval, I'm giving you the next chapter already. They'll probably continue to increase in length. My updating schedule... Well, so far I've updated five times in two days, so... We'll see, I guess. Here's the chapter!
> 
> Have fun!  
> why must i be so awkward why

The cab drives up a minute after Charlie calls for it, and she climbs in first, telling the driver where to go.

Dean, having sobered somewhat from the cold January air, manages to get into the back seat by himself, taking his place in the middle. He turns and watches Castiel get in after him, sitting beside Dean. The Winchester takes a moment to cross his legs, feeling his friend from his dream earlier making a comeback. He blames it on the fact that he’s still drunk as all hell.

“Are you sure you are okay, Dean?” Castiel asks when he notices Dean’s discomfort.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Cas,” he replies, resolving to keep his eyes on the glass screen in front of him the entire time.

“Okay then,” Castiel says, “I had fun tonight, Dean.”

“That’s great Cas,” Dean responds, already breaking his commitment to staring at the screen. He looks straight at Castiel. “I’m glad.” Castiel smiles and something apparently occurs to him. He rummages through an inside pocket on his trenchcoat, and pulls out a phone.

“I will give you my number,” he declares, determined, as if it were some great honor he was bestowing upon Dean. Or possibly the other way around. Dean laughs and takes his own phone out, trading it with Cas. He enters his number in Cas’s contacts as ‘ _Deanisawesome:)_ ’ and hands it back. Receiving his, he finds ‘ _Castiel Novak_ ’ with his number ready to call. A text message pops up on screen:

‘ _Hello Dean_.’ Dean looks up to see Castiel smiling at him. Dean returns the grin and texts a reply.

‘ _Hello Cas_.’ They share another smile before Charlie groans.

“You better not just text each other this entire time. I will not spend the cab ride and train ride with you two acting all AFK,” she complains, crossing her arms. Dean chuckles and leans against her.

“Don’t worry, my queen, we haven’t forgotten about you,” Dean offers.

“Does Charlie possess royal blood?” Castiel asks, his tone vexed. Dean blushes, already embarrassed, knowing that Charlie will explain.

“No, but I once got Dean here to go LARPing with me,” she explains, “and I was the badass queen and he was my loyal knight.”

“And together we slew dragons and fell mighty armies,” Dean adds, committing to the embarrassment. Castiel giggles, grinning.

“You should totally come LARPing with me again, Dean,” she says, poking Dean in the stomach.

“You know I can’t, not after I got kicked out for hooking up with that elf-warrior chick,” he retorts. He notices Castiel’s grin start to fade. “You good, buddy?”

“Yes, I am fine,” Castiel answers. “This ‘LARPing’ sounds like much fun.”

“Oh, it is!” Charlie squeals. “You should totally come too, drag Dean here back to be my knight in bloodstained armor again. You can be our hot mage friend!” Castiel blushes now, unsure of how to answer.

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean adds, “It’d be fun.”

“And as Dean here has discovered, the girls love a hot guy who knows how to be nerdy,” Charlie says, her eyes narrowed and the corner of her mouth turned up.

“Oh, that- that’s fine, I don’t need-” Castiel stutters.

“One: I’m amazed you just used a contraction- two contractions, no less. And two: the guy LARPers also love hot nerdy men, if that’s what you like.” Charlie smiles widely when Castiel’s cheeks redden even further and he turns forward. Dean sits in stunned silence. He stares at Castiel, catches him glancing at Dean out of the corner of his eye.

“Dude, it’s fine, Dumbledork here is gayer than a strip club in Houston.” Dean earns a faint smile from Castiel but nothing more.

“The driver’s probably the only straight one in the cab. Isn’t that right, Jarvis?” Charlie taps on the glass screen.

“My name is Jamil, loud girl,” the man responds in a thick accent, “and my husband is at home with our daughter right now.” Charlie laughs.

“See? We’re all a bunch of queers. This is just like a Harry Potter fanfiction I read.”

“Um, excuse me?” Dean holds up his hand. “Straight guy here.”

“Oh right,” Charlie rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. She looks at Castiel and makes air quotes. “Dean’s _straight_.”

“Hey!” Dean’s face turns bright red. _With anger_ , he thinks to himself. Castiel doesn’t make a sound. “Jamil, are we there yet?” Dean doesn’t look away from Charlie, doing his best to keep his eyebrows angry and threatening.

“No, loud boy, we are not,” Jamil answers, deadpan. “Do not use me as an escape from having to talk about your ambiguous sexuality or I will overcharge you.” Charlie bursts into hysterical laughter and Dean is silenced. Even Castiel giggles at the driver’s comment.

“By the maker, Jamil, you are my new best friend,” Charlie announces between labored breaths.

“I hate all of you,” Dean mutters.

“Oh, you know you love us,” Charlie says, pulling an unwilling Castiel and Dean into a bear hug. Castiel’s breath is thick against Dean’s neck, and Dean can feel his body heat through the trenchcoat. His own breathing hitches and he spasms, throwing the other two off of him.

“That hug goes for you too, Jamil,” Charlie adds.

“You are all very strange people.”

The ride lasts a couple more minutes in sparse conversation. Jamil drops off the trio at the train station, sharing a few private words with Charlie as she pays the fare. He drives away and Charlie walks inside with the boys.

“What’d Jamil say?” Dean ventures.

“Not much. We’re having coffee next time I’m in the area.”

“Of course you are.”

“Hey, anyone willing to call you on your bullcrap is someone I wanna know.”

“What? He didn’t call me on anything!”

“I believe his exact words were ‘Do not use me as an escape from having to talk about your ambiguous sexuality’,” Castiel provides. Charlie slaps him on the shoulder.

“See?” she says, pointing at Castiel, “Someone I wanna know.”

“Eh, who needs you,” Dean pouts and walks toward the ticket counter. While he buys the tickets, Charlie pulls Castiel aside.

“Dean’s single, by the way,” she whispers.

“What? I-” Castiel stammers.

“Shhhh, listen to me, my little Tom Bombadil.”

“I do not know who that-” Charlie presses her finger to Castiel’s mouth.

“Shhhh. Your queen is speaking.”

“Your queen is also shit at whispering,” says Dean, who has appeared behind them from purchasing the train tickets. Castiel jumps, and Charlie beams at the Winchester brother.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I am in no way shit at whispering.”

“Sure you’re not,” he sighs. They begin walking towards the correct platform. Dean leans in to Charlie and whispers, “And I’m not gay, Charlie.”

“Sure you’re not.” Charlie skips ahead down the hallway, stopping when she reaches a bench, and sits down.

“She is quite a handful,” Castiel proclaims.

“Yeah, she’s like the little sister I never wanted.” Dean rubs the back of his neck. “Listen, about what she was saying-”

“How much was the ticket?”

“What?”

“The train ticket. How much did it cost?” Castiel pulls out his wallet and rifles through the money inside. Dean pushes it away.

“Nah, man, my treat.” He sees the consternated look on his friend’s face and adds, “You can buy the tickets next time, Cas.” Castiel’s eyes light up and he smiles.

The train arrives and the three board it, finding seats. The boys spend the time talking, laughing, and even singing when Dean realizes Castiel appreciates Led Zeppelin. Charlie sleeps the entire trip, only waking to bid Castiel farewell when his stop comes. Dean hugs his friend goodbye, and Castiel promises to text. The black-haired man departs, leaving Dean and a half-asleep Charlie on the train at two in the morning. After a few minutes, his cell phone vibrates in his pocket.

‘ _Hello Dean_ ,’ the message says. Dean smiles warmly.

‘ _Hello Cas_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's that chapter!  
> Jamil is my spirit animal, by the way.
> 
> Comment, kudos, bookmark, whatever tickles your fancy, floats your boat, or you find to be your cup of sugar!


	6. Where My Life is Leading

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd apologize for this being late, but considering how this is already the sitxh chapter in, like, four days or so, I don't think I have to. I'm totally spoiling you. You know, if you're a recurring reader. Which I hope you are.  
> please love me
> 
> Anyway, have fun!  
> whydoidothistomyself

_‘Walking down this rocky road...’_

Dean wakes to the sound of his phone ringing. He lifts his head to find his ears ringing as well. Groaning, he fumbles out of the sheets.

_‘Wondering where my life is leading...’_

He blindly finds the vibrating nuisance and brings it to his ear, accepting the call.

“What.”

‘Good morning, Dean,’ a gruff voice answers, and Dean’s eyes open.

“Cas?” he asks, the poison in his tone gone.

‘Yes.’

“Not that I’m not happy to hear from you,” _wait what_ , “but why are you calling me at,” Dean looks at his alarm clock, “...Nine-thirty! Shit, I gotta get ready for work!”

‘That is why I am calling, yes.’

“Oh.” Dean holds the phone between his neck and shoulder as he rushes to pull on a pair of pants. “Well, thanks, buddy.”

‘You are welcome. Have a good day, Dean,’ Castiel replies.

“You too, Cas,” Dean says as he struggles into a shirt. A moment of silence follows, and the call ends. Fully dressed, albeit rather roughly, he walks out of the bedroom at a brisk pace, when his phone rings again. The lack of Bad Company lyrics tells him it’s not Cas again, and the caller ID tells him it’s Ellen.

“Ellen?” Dean ventures, realizing she must know he’s late. How, he has no idea. Ellen just seems to know these things.

‘Ten bucks says you’re not even dressed,’ she replies in a mocking tone.

“Those ten bucks are lying, then,” he shoots back smugly.

‘Oh yeah? Shirt, pants, shoes, socks?’ Dean is about to affirm when he notices he neglected to put on socks and he’s wearing the wrong shoes. For that matter, the shirt he put on is dirty with a rather large ketchup stain on it from a bacon cheeseburger he had last week. Dean silently curses himself for forgetting that getting dressed in the dark is not one of his skills.

‘I’ll take that as a no,’ she continues, and Dean can just hear the grin on her face. ‘Figured you’d sleep in today, seein’ as how you must be pretty hungover from last night.’

“Jeez, Ellen, I’m sorry, I’ll be there as soon as-”

‘Hold your horses, kid, you’re off today,’ Ellen says, ‘I had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to operate heavy machinery, let alone on people, the day after a Winchester birthday party.’ Dean laughs and leans against the wall.

“Yeah I do tend to overdo it at those, huh.”

‘Usually out of the fact that you don’t want to be there. But you seemed pretty happy last night. Why would you say that was?’

“I don’t know, Ellen, the booze?”

‘There’s booze every year, Dean, try again.’

“Jesus, Ellen, I don’t know,” he groans.

‘Sure,’ she says, ‘You just stay home today and try to remember.’

“Whatever.”

‘And Dean?’

“Yes?”

‘I’ll take the ten in cash.’ She hangs up the phone.

Dean returns to the bedroom and collapses on the mattress. A full day off. Dean thinks about what he could do with that. He could hang out with Charlie if she’s off too, or maybe go back down and visit Sam again. He could make up for last night with Lisa. He could call Cas up again and see if he’s free.

Cas. Dean’s brain hurts at the thought.

 _What is up with me_ , he thinks. Last night was full of drunken laughter and bad singing at the party, but all he can think of properly is Cas. Especially the dream. _The hell was up with that?_ Dean demands of himself. His head aches when he tries to wrap his mind around it. Everything he can think of only leads to one terrifying conclusion. Before he understands what he’s doing, he finds his phone back in his hand. It picks up.

‘Hello,’ a deep voice answers.

“C-Cas?” Dean stutters.

‘Yes. Hi Dean. How can I help you?’

“Hey man, I- I was just-” Dean’s heart pounds and his thoughts race. What am I doing?

‘Dean, are you okay?’ Concern is clear is Cas’ voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just- I have off from work today, and…”

‘And…?’

“Are you free?” he manages. _What am I doing?_

‘Today is a school day, Dean. I am a teacher. I am actually at school right now,” he explains. Dean smacks his own face.

“Right, of course. Sorry for interrupting your class,” _for whatever this is that I’m doing which I have no idea what it is what why what is going on._

‘Not a problem. My teacher’s aide leads class for the first hour. You have interrupted nothing but my breakfast time.’

“Whatcha eating?” Why ask that? Why is this conversation happening?

‘A cheeseburger and a chocolate milk carton.’

“Sounds like a run-and-go breakfast, huh?”

‘No. This is what I eat every day.’

“You have a cheeseburger and chocolate milk every day for breakfast?” Dean asks, disbelieving.

‘Yes.’

“Then how do you look so go-” _stop that_ , “How do you keep in shape with a diet like that?”

‘I am not sure. I suppose my metabolism is unusually efficient.’

“Right. Well,” Dean sighs, “I guess I’ll let you get back to that-”

‘Dean?’

“Yeah, Cas?”

‘School ends around two-thirty.’

“Oh?” _why is heart do that why_.

‘Would you like to ‘hang out’ afterwards?’

“Tell me you just put up air-quotes.”

‘...I did no such thing.’ Dean laughs heartily, and the other line offers only a grunt.

“Sure, Cas, let’s do dinner,” _what did I just say_ , “or, like, a late lunch. Burgers on me.”

‘I insist I pay this time.’

“We can fight over the bill later. Lunch?”

‘Lunch. Now, if you will excuse me,’ Cas says over the sound of screaming children, ‘I believe my presence is required. Goodbye, Dean.’

“Seeya later, Cas.” The call ends.

 _What did I just do? Why did I call him?_ Dean’s head pulses with questions and he doesn’t like any of the answers he comes up with. He forces to mind images of working on his car, weightlifting, anything to assert himself over his body. He tries to think of Lisa Braedan, with her dark, black hair and they way her body used to fit so nicely with his. Dean flips over on the bed.

He thinks about the Lisa from his dream, in that red dress that showed off her curves. Her voice when she spoke to him, her sex voice. Her dark brown eyes, filled with lust.

 _And how those brown eyes turned blue._ Dean finds and yells into his pillow at the memory. He feels so weak at the idea of what is happening. _I don’t get it._

Dean lies there for several minutes.

 

 

_Be strong for me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of chapter six: In Which Dean is as Awkward as a Teenage Girl. Hope you liked it!
> 
> Leave a comment, kudos, bookmark, whatever the hell tickles your fancy, [insert the other things I said last time].
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. We Should Call You Narnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! In which Dean gets the help he never wanted.  
> I'm thinking I'll try to keep up this every-other-day update schedule. It's not bad.
> 
> Have fun!  
> i am beyond hope

“What’s up, bitches?”

Charlie skips through the door as soon as Dean opens it, and he immediately regrets it. She saunters in and makes herself comfortable on the couch, throwing her laptop carrier on the coffee table.

“Regale me, fair knight, with the tales of your woe,” she calls. He shakes his head and closes the door, approaching the living room.

“Charlie,” Dean started, “can you not-”

“I know not this ‘Charlie’ you speaketh of,” she interrupts, putting air quotes around her name. She raises her chin. “I am thy queen, sir knight. Address me as such.”

“Really? Now?”

“Indeed,” she replies. “We are getting into character, we’re going to the play-grounds later. Thou art welcome to accompany your queen.”

“Oh, thou art breaking out the royal we, this must be an exciting day for thee,” Dean says, begrudgingly playing along. He bows and slumps beside her on the sofa.

“A glorious day indeed, Sir Page, we are discussing battle plans for the Battle of Navagio to taketh place in just a fortnight,” Charlie grins and almost squeals.

“Sounds exciting, I would come, although; a daunting task must I undergo.”

“A daunting task, thou sayeth?” She narrows her eyes. “What task daunts thee so, my knight?”

“At half-past three, I shall away to see the man from yesterday,” Dean explains, and Charlie’s eyes light up. She proceeds to make a sound that he can only describe as inhuman and soul rending.

“Shut up!” She repeatedly hits Dean on the arm, smiling a shit-eating grin. “You are not!”

“‘ _Thou art_ not’, I believe you mean. And please, refrain from hitting Dean.”

“Dude, I don’t care about that right now, you’ve got a hot date! With a dude! That’s so epic, oh my gosh,” Charlie seems to be on the verge of hyperventilating.

“Hey, it’s not a _date_ , Charlie, we’re just having lunch, calm down.”

“Hold up,” she says, covering his face with her hand. He pushes it away, and she replaces it. “Let me get this straight. You’re going to lunch...”

“Yes,” he mumbles through her fingers.

“With Cas…”

“Check,” Dean affirms, and pushes away her hand again.

“Who you have a total mancrush on…”

“Nope.”

“And you called it ‘daunting’.”

“Well, yes, but-”

“If it’s not a date, then what makes it so ‘daunting’?” She looks at him, an eyebrow raised. He opens his mouth to answer, but stumbles on his words. Charlie shrieks again, and Dean checks his ears for blood.

“It’s totally a date,” she announces. She looks down and gasps. “But,” she stands up, “what are you going to _wear_?”

“What?” Dean follows her gaze and studies his own clothing. He has on a blue t-shirt, grey sweats, and mismatched white socks.

“You are not wearing that on your date,” Charlie says, determined. She marches into Dean’s bedroom. He follows, groaning.

“Charlie, it’s not a date, I don’t-” He’s once again cut off by Charlie’s hand, this time her pointer finger pressing to his mouth.

“You will thank me later. Now,” she waves at his clothes, “take all of that grossness off.”

“Charlie.”

“Do it for your Gellert, Albus. _Do it for Gellert_.”

“Cas is not my Gellert, I have no Gellert.”

“Okay, Squidward.”

“Stop comparing me to fictional characters.”

“Okay, Bilbo.”

“Bilbo is a fictional character.”

“If you say so, Ricky Smith.”

“Also a fictional character.”

“Okay-”

“Stop.”

“Then strip.”

“Fine, but not because I need your help,” Dean says and pulls off his shirt. “Just to make you shut up.”

“When was the last time you even had a date?” Charlie asks, not bothering to look away as Dean removes his pants.

“First of all, _it’s not a date_ , and second; I go on plenty of dates, thank you very much.”

“I mean a real date, not some meaningless one-night-stand in a sleazy motel.” She smirks when Dean pauses with a contemplative look. He takes a couple seconds to respond.

“Be quiet Charlie,” he says. He’s down to his boxers and holds up his hands. “Now what, oh wise one?” She pokes his stomach and hops over to his closet, opening it and looking through its contents.

“No,” she throws a shirt to the floor, “no,” she throws another one, “maybe,” this one goes to Dean’s bed, and she continues for several minutes. Charlie turns and begins holding shirts from the ‘maybe’ pile to Dean’s torso.

“Wait,” she says, a thin grey henley shirt in her hand, and picks up a black suede jacket from the floor. “Put these on, and,” she grabs a pair of dark navy jeans from the closet, “these too. Snap to it, I haven’t got all day. The queen is expected at her kingdom at some point.” Dean reluctantly accepts the clothes and begins putting them on.

“Still isn’t a date, Charlie,” he adds while fitting his head through the shirt.

“Not that I don’t love the sound of your denial,” she replies, helping him get his arms through the jacket, “but I don’t.”

“Not in denial.” Dean slips through the pant legs and buckles a belt at his waist.

“You’re so far into the closet we should call you Narnia.”

“I’m not gay, Charlie!” Dean yells, a bit louder and angrier than he meant. She doesn’t flinch, just pats his cheek.

“I know,” she comments, and walks out of the room. Vexed, he follows.

“What?” he asks, finding her lounging back on the couch.

“Dean, I know you’re not gay. There’s no doubting Dean Winchester’s love of frisky women.”

“But you-”

“Have I ever _said_ you were gay, Dean. Have I ever actually _said_ that?”

“Well,” he thinks back, trying to recall a time she had, “not that I can think of, no,” she smirks, and he continues, “but then why do you constantly question my- my sexuality if you know I’m not gay?” Charlie looks at him, exasperated.

“There are other sexualities besides gay and straight, my young padawan.” She giggles at his dumbfounded face. “There’s an entire _spectrum_ of wonderful queerness you’re missing out on.”

“What?” he manages, still confused.

“I’d give you the whole Kinsey scale speech, but that’d go over your head like Drax and a metaphor. Simply put, you, my friend, are what is called _bisexual_.”

“What?” he repeats. Charlie groans and lays her head back.

“Bisexual. As in, attracted to both genders. You like the ladies, yes, but you like the dudes as well.” She looks away, tilting her head. “I suppose you _could_ be pan, but that’s something of a leap for you…”

“Charlie, I’m not- I don’t like dudes,” he protests. She turns back to look at him, suddenly looking pissed.

“Dean, I’m not normally one for outing people, but this is _long_ overdue and you’re _ready_. You have a date with a hot guy who actually really likes you, and I know you’re starting to struggle with your own feelings for him. It’s all over your face.” Dean is speechless, Charlie boring holes into his head with her death glare. “So get over yourself, Dean. Liking men doesn’t make you any less of one. Now stop the denial, get out there, and get yourself some hot man ass!” She walks away, and Dean takes a few moments to compose himself.

“That was rather lacking in the geeky reference department, Charlie,” is all he can say as she reaches the entrance.

“And _that_ was rather lacking in the denial department, Dean,” she points out, amused. She checks her watch, turns around, and opens the door. “I’ve got a kingdom to run. Peace out, bitches!” Charlie disappears into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind her.

Dean is left alone, standing in his room in a completely new outfit, trying to figure out whether Charlie’s visit left him more or less confused. He sits down and grunts into a pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's that bundle of awkardness and denial, hope you liked it. Comment, kudos, you know the spiel.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. I Didn't Eat Your Twizzlers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Eight, In Which I Get to Introduce an Important Character
> 
> Have fun!

It is three-thirty, and Dean is sitting in the front seat of the ‘67 Impala his father left to him.

The car is parked in front of a small diner called Guidry’s. The building doesn’t have much to boast, just a small place with a shingled roof and old wooden walls on JFK Boulevard in Union City. Lazy traffic passes by in the afternoon sun. The sky is mostly clear, a sea of cerulean blue. The atmosphere is calm as possible.

Dean is having a panic attack.

Thoughts like _What am I doing here?_ and _It’s nothing, it’s nothing, it’s nothing_ race through his mind. His hands are grasping the steering wheel with deadly, white-knuckling force. He stares straight forward at the window of the establishment, where he can see a few customers ordering food. It isn’t very busy. His mind, however, is crowded and loud, an internal battle being fought. A ceasefire is called, however, when a dark blue Camaro drives into the parking lot and passes in front of Dean’s. The driver has familiar black hair and chiseled features. Castiel parks his car and enters the diner. Dean momentarily forgets his previous inner turmoil and opens his car door, climbing out and in a daze, walking towards the entrance.

The inside of Guidry’s smells like burger grease and maple syrup. The air is thick with the taste of diner food, and Dean stands at the door for a moment to appreciate the comforting scents. He’s broken from his trance by a throaty voice that sounds like sex. _Wait what_.

“Dean,” it says. He opens his eyes to find Castiel standing in front of him, encroaching into his personal space. His breath smells like mint and honey.

“Hey, Cas,” he greets his friend. They share a smile and walk together to a booth.

“How has your day been?” Castiel asks when they sit down on opposite side of the table.

“Not much- I mean, not eventful.” Dean mentally kicks himself. “I haven’t done much. You?”

“Teaching twenty toddlers is not an always easy task. It can be quite daunting, sometimes,” Castiel says offhandedly, glancing out the wind. Dean blanches at his word usage.

“Y-yeah, I can imagine.” A waitress comes over, a short dark-haired girl with a ponytail and a nametag that declares her name is Carmen. She hands the two men menus and asks them about drinks. Dean orders a beer and Castiel a glass of water. She smiles and walks away.

“Water, huh?” Dean muses from behind his menu. Guidry’s may not have an elaborate building, but the pure quantity of options on the menu are incredible.

“I tend not to drink alcohol before five o’clock in the afternoon,” Castiel replies.

“Well, it’s five somewhere.” Dean appreciates Castiel’s chuckle at this.

“That is indeed a compelling argument,” he jokes. Dean lowers his menu for a second to study Castiel’s grin. His teeth are perfectly white and his lips are pink and thin. His eyebrows crinkle slightly and his eyes are narrow, the deep blue pupils focusing on his own menu. He looks like he’s shaved recently, but purposefully without getting a close shave. The five o’clock shadow reminds Dean of the drinking statement his friend made only fifteen or so seconds ago. Dean grins and returns to searching for an entree.

The waitress comes back with their drinks and is in the middle of listing the specials when she looks at Castiel funny.

“Hey,” she says, forming a thought, “You, you’re Cassie, right?” Castiel blushes and addresses her.

“It’s Castiel.”

“Right, sure,” she responds, smiling. “Did you wanna see Gabe?”

“No, no, no I did not,” he says, and sips his water. “I purposefully came here on his day off to avoid that.”

“Then you did a poor job of that, sweetie. Gabe’s in the back.” Castiel’s eyes widen and he nearly spits out his water. He swallows heavily.

“I thought he- he said,” he blabbers, then closes his eyes and sighs. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Cas, who’s Gabe?” Dean asks, only to be answered by a short brunet who jumps on the seat next to Castiel. Carmen nods at him and walks away to help other customers.

“That’s me!” the man exclaims, wrapping an arm around an unhappy Castiel’s shoulders.

“Dean,” Castiel huffs, “this is Gabriel. Gabriel, Dean.” The man grabs Dean’s hand and shakes it vigorously.

“Gabriel, as in your brother Gabriel?” Dean pulls his hand away. The man grins and prods Castiel.

“Cassie, you told him about me? How sweet,” he croons.

“I told him about all my siblings and how my brothers annoy me and _would you please go away_.” Gabriel holds a hand over his heart and feigns offense.

“Cassie, I’m wounded. You would turn your own brother away, your own flesh and blood?”

“Gabriel. You said you were not working today.”

“I also said I didn’t eat your Twizzlers last week,” Gabriel adds. Castiel narrows his eyes.

“I _knew_ Balthazar had not taken them,” he grunts. He crosses his arms.

“Oh Cassie, don’t be like that, you don’t wanna spoil your date.”

“It’s not a date,” both Dean and Castiel say. Castiel’s eyes are dim and Dean’s heart sinks slightly. He’s not sure why. Gabriel’s eyebrows rise higher.

“Well then, got me there,” he says, holding up his hands. He turns and studies Dean, who feels very uncomfortable under the small, excitable man’s scrutiny.

“Are you sure it’s not a date, Cassie? He’s good-looking, and he seems like your type-” He’s cut off by the sudden movement of Castiel’s arm, covering his mouth.

“It isn’t a date, Gabriel, now go cook food and don’t bother us again,” he demands, but his voice is more pouty than angry. His brother accedes, and gets up from the booth, but leans on the table before leaving.

“If it’s not a date, it should be,” he smiles at Castiel, then turns it on Dean. “I haven’t seen Cassie get flustered enough to use that many contractions in a long time. Means he _likes_ you.”

“ _Gabriel_.”

“Fine, fine, I can take a not-very-subtle hint. Have fun, boys.” Gabriel slinks away, shooting them suggestive looks as he climbs over the counter. Castiel groans and lays his head on the table.

“I am sorry for my brother, Dean. He is… he is always like this.” Dean laughs and pushes his friend up.

“It’s fine, Cas, brothers are brothers.”

“Still, I did not want him to be here today.”

“If you’re so shy about Gabe, why come here, where he works?” Dean asks, and Castiel smiles.

“The burgers here are delicious.”

“Well,” Dean grins, “that is something I can get on board with.” He waves over to Carmen, who takes their orders of two bacon cheeseburgers with fries, at Castiel’s recommendation. She stays a moment.

“So if you’re Castiel,” she says, pointing her pencil at him, “then does that make you Balthazar?” She looks at Dean, who shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m Dean. Dean Winchester. Not a Novak brother.”

“Well, Dean Winchester,” Carmen says, “it’s very nice to meet you. I’ll be right back with your burgers.” She leaves with a wink. Dean turns back to see Castiel’s mood hasn’t improved.

“Cas?”

“Oh, I am fine, Dean,” he replies, “I just- I do not find Carmen’s flirting tasteful.”

“Flirting?” Dean repeats, surprised. He replays her comments in his mind, and concludes that she was indeed flirting with him. How had he not realized? “I didn’t even notice.” The corners of Castiel’s mouth quirk upwards, and his eyes brighten once again.

“Well, that is good. I mean- it’s good you don’t have to endure her flirting consciously,” Castiel stammers. Dean laughs.

“You know, the contractions thing is adorable,” _what did I just say_ , “it’s fun to see you talk like a normal person.” Dean isn’t sure whether he just embarrassed or offended Castiel, but the other man shows no hint of either. He just smiles warmly with a tilt of his head.

“Thank you, Dean. I-” he looks down with a mischievous glance, “ _I’m_ sure _it’s_ quite adorable indeed.” Dean laughs again and feels his cheeks burning. _From laughing, of course._

“Stop, stop, it’s too much,” he says.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re killing me, stop,” Dean chuckles.

“Okay,” Castiel smirks. “I will stop.”

“Thanks, buddy.” Dean gulps down some of his beer.

“Anything, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yep there's Gabe, in all his annoyingness. This chapter essentially intro'd a couple characters, or at least hinted at their future appearances. Since I hate withholding information, this chapter shows/ alludes to: Gabriel, Carmen Porter, Balthazar, and even Benny too. For those keeping score, we now know Cas' two brothers (Gabe and Balthazar) and one sister (Anna). His other sis is Hester, if you wanted to know.
> 
> Well there's that exposition. Because it was so obviously necessary.  
> Comment/ kudos/ etc!
> 
> Happy New Years, everybody!


	9. My Treat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just randomly remembered that this website exists and I read through this old story and on a whim decided to continue. The first part of this chapter was still waiting for me to finish. Hope this is what I had in mind, or at least it's entertaining to read!

“You weren’t lying about these burgers,” Dean remarks, stuffing his mouth with his bacon cheeseburger. Castiel furrows his eyebrows.

“I would not lie to you, Dean.”

“Well,” Dean swallows his enormous bite of burger meat, “that’s good.” 

“So the burger is acceptable?”

“Yeah, the burger is acceptable, Cas.” Dean smiles, his lips smeared with ketchup. Castiel laughs and eats his own meal. The moan of delight he makes when he first bites into it gives Dean pause, and he watches Castiel devour the burger. Dean takes a moment to realize Carmen is back and has asked him a question.

“Sorry, what?” 

“I said,” she replies sweetly, “is there anything else I can help you with?” 

“No thank you, we are fine,” Castiel practically barks. She doesn’t look at him, only smiles at Dean and walks away.

“Her flirting really bother you that much?” Dean asks, amused.

“What?” Castiel is taken off guard. “No- I mean, maybe. She is just-”

“Yeah, I get it. Here,” Dean starts, glancing at Carmen to make sure she’s still eyeing him, “I can get her to stop.” He reaches across the table and places his hand over Castiel’s. The other man freezes and pales, but Dean is looking at Carmen, who raises an eyebrow, pouts, and turns away to help other customers. Dean laughs to himself and looks back at Castiel.

“She’ll stop now,” he announces. Castiel gives Dean a tilted smile, and takes another bite of his burger, the grin never leaving his face. Dean goes to eat his own when he realizes his hand is still grasping Castiel’s, and he takes it back with a blush. He hides the reddened cheeks with his burger.  _ Not reddened cheeks, no, it’s just hot in here. _

They pass the rest of the meal in amicable chatter, trading sibling stories and work tales. Castiel tells Dean about the time Gabriel played a prank on Hester that included a strait jacket and a bucket of chicken blood, and the time Balthazar had accidentally joined the coast guard under the name I. P. Freely. Dean shares some tales from his and Sam’s childhood, including one about four year old Sam crying over his stuffed penguin being thrown out after he had brought it in the bathtub with him. They're laughing when Carmen comes back over to pick up their empty plates.

“I’ll be back with the check, we splittin’ this?” She looks back and forth between the two, both starting to answer.

“You paid last time, Dean,” the blue-eyed man grunts, staring his friend down.

“I asked you to lunch, it’s my treat,” Dean replies, taking out his wallet. They narrow their eyes at each other as Castiel takes his out as well.

“You figure that out while I get the check,” Carmen chuckles, walking away with the dishes. Dean and Castiel continue to stare each other down.

“Okay, one way to settle this,” Dean says, smirking. He lifts his hand from the table in a fist. “Roshambo.”

“What?” Castiel looks quizzically at Dean.

“Roshambo? Rock, paper, scissors?”

“Oh, yes, I am familiar with that game. Winner pays for lunch?” Castiel lifts his fist over the table as well, and Dean nods.

They count and pump their fists, and on three, throw their hands. Castiel takes his still-closed fist and bumps Dean’s two outstretched fingers.

“Rock defeats scissors,” he announces, smiling. 

“Best two out of three.” They count again, and come to the same result.

“Damn it!” Dean grunts, just as the waitress returns.

“Sounds like we’ve decided,” Carmen laughs, handing the check to the victor. Castiel gives it back along with some cash. “Thanks guys, and I hope you have an  _ excellent  _ day.” She wiggles her eyebrows at Dean and bounces away.

“I got next time, though,” the disgruntled Winchester mumbles.

“At the very least, I am glad that she is done with her flirting now,” Castiel comments as the men start to stand up from the booth.

“Careful Cas, you sound jealous,” Dean muses, not realizing what he’s said until he sees the darker look that comes over Castiel’s eyes. He stumbles for a way to recover when he’s interrupted by a very happy-looking man in his face.

“Leaving so soon, Dean-O?” Gabriel smiles at him as he wipes his hands on his apron. Castiel looks up in surprise, then annoyance.

“We have been here for almost two hours, Gabriel, I would hesitate to call that ‘soon’,” he groans, turning around to leave.

“It was really nice meeting you, man, and your burgers were awesome.” Dean claps Gabriel on the shoulder, and the man beams at the compliment. He calls out to them as they walk outside.

“He’s a keeper, Cassie!” Gabriel continues to smile at them as Castiel seems to try to force the door behind them to close faster. He sighs and begins walking away from the diner.

Dean watches him start to go towards his car, then stop and turn around, looking at him expectantly. His blue eyes look like they’re asking something, but whatever it is, Dean wouldn’t know the answer anyway. He follows the teacher after a moment.

“Thanks, uh, for lunch.” 

“It was my pleasure, Dean.”

“We should do it again sometime!” Dean coughs, and rubs the back of his neck. Castiel does not seem convinced, his head cocked to the side like when he doesn’t understand.

“You want to come here for lunch again with me?”

“Well, yeah, or we could go somewhere else,” he rambles, “or maybe a different meal, like, I dunno, dinner or something.” It looks like Castiel might be blushing, but he quickly looks away, studying the Guidry’s sign to their left.

“Yes, that would be… pleasant.”

“Well, good. We’ll do that. At some point. Is this your car?” Dean asks, pointing at the blue Camaro.

“Oh, yes, this is mine. How did you know?” 

_ I watched you show up in it and get out while I was frozen in fear. _ “Seems like something you’d drive, is all. ‘60 Camaro SS, right?” Dean steps next to the car, placing a hand on the hood. 

“I believe so,” Castiel replies, seemingly distracted. “Gabriel purchased it for me.”

“ _ Her _ , Cas. Gabe got  _ her _ for you. She’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. I think.” The eternally confused man stares at the car intently, and Dean suddenly realizes how close they’re standing. 

“She matches you.”  _ Shit.  _ “I mean, your eyes.”  _ Shit shit.  _ “I mean, your eyes are blue. And so is your car.”  _ Shit shit shit he’s staring at me.  _ Castiel’s eyes look directly into Dean’s, and he can sense the waves of confusion going through the man’s mind.

“That is objectively correct, yes.” The slightest hint of a smile teases at the man’s mouth, but he seems to force it down. Dean feels his eyes search him, and for a strange moment he can’t see anything other than their icy blueness. 

It’s an oddly warm sensation, feeling the pure blue of Castiel’s gaze, and Dean gives in to the urge to get closer to the warmth. He takes a step forward, unknowingly backing Castiel against the car. His eyes get even bluer, the redness of his cheeks providing more contrast. The memory of eyes turning blue catches Dean off guard, and he suddenly gets lost in the memory. When he opens his eyes again, Castiel’s blue ones are still staring at him. They look more confused than ever.

Because Dean is kissing him.

He jerks backwards, in shock, staring at the man in front of him. Castiel appears frozen, his hands gripping the side of his Camaro.  _ What the actual fuck just happened.  _ Dean stands in place, his mind spinning. 

“I-” Dean sputters. “I’ll see you later!” He turns and walks over to his Impala faster than necessary and gets in. Starting the car, he glances over to see Castiel still in the same spot, watching Dean leave. 

The look of confusion on the man’s face burns in his brain for the entire drive home, and so does the taste on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing, but let me know if you think I should keep it going! If someone likes it, I'll make sure the next chapter doesn't take 5 years to come out lol


	10. Not Much of an Explanation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're liking the story, let me know! If you hate it, sure, let me know about that, too, I guess.

‘You did  _ what?’  _ Charlie’s voice screams in Dean’s ear, his phone vibrating with the force of her words.

“I don’t know! It just happened, I didn’t mean to!” He wipes his face with his free hand, rubbing his temples as he talked to his best friend. Still in the care, he had called her as soon as he got home, panicking.

‘Dean, you don’t just  _ kiss _ people by accident! That only happens in fanfics, and not even the ones  _ I  _ write!’

“I- I don’t know, Charlie, one second I was talking about the guy’s car, the next, my face is on his,” he explains, knowing it’s not much of an explanation. His head drops, and he can hear the amused disbelief on the other side of the phone.

‘I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you have the hots for him more than Steve does for Tony.’

“I don’t have a crush on Cas!”

‘Says the guy who literally just made out with him,’ Charlie teases. Dean groans, leaning his head on the car window.

“Don’t you have a kingdom to run and another kingdom to ruin?” 

‘Says the guy who interrupted my war council with a phone call.’

“Maybe I’ll let you get back to-”

‘Oh no you don’t,’ she chides. ‘You’re not getting out of this that easily. The instant we’re done plotting the downfall of my enemies and the destruction of their entire way of life, I’m coming over there and smacking some sense into you, Hermione-style.’

“Literally or metaphorically?”

‘It’ll be a surprise. Toodles!’ The call ends. Dean lets out a sigh and sinks back in the leather seat.

_ Why did I do that? _ He racks his brain for any reasoning that led to him plant one on his new friend. Dean stares in the rearview mirror, pretending that he doesn’t know. But every time he asks that question, a moment rushes to him, answering. Cas smiling cheekily as he forces himself to say a contraction. Wiping his mouth with a napkin and neatly folding it back down on the table. Talking about something Gabe did, laughing so hard he accidentally burped, blushing fiercely in embarrassment. 

The blue in his eyes, widening as Dean got closer.

He opens the car door and jumps out, breathing heavily, and quickly forces a smile on.

“Nope nope nope, not thinking about that.” He leaves the parking garage and walks into his apartment building. The doorman catches his attention as he comes through the door.

“Mr. Winchester!” He waves Dean down, taking off his hat.

“Hey Crowley, what’s up?” Dean tries to be friendly with the doorman, but something about the dude always skeeves him out.

“A lady was here to see you earlier today, left a message.”

“A lady?” Dean asks, wondering who it might be. Did Ellen drop by? 

“Yeah,” he answers, pulling a note out of his pocket. He squints at it, reading. “She says; ‘You lazy bastard, you didn’t pick me up for your own fukcing party and now you’re not answering your goddamn phone. Call me as soon as you get home you good-for-nothing piece of shit.’” Crowley looks awkwardly to the side. Dean groans, checking his phone and realizing he’s got a bunch of missed calls and voicemails.

“Fuck,” he sighed.

“Girlfriend, I assume?” Crowley asks, still not meeting Dean’s eye.

“Ex,” he corrected. “But I’m still in trouble. Thanks Crowley.”

“No problem at all, sir.” Dean hands him a dollar and the doorman, satisfied, walks back to his post. 

The elevator takes forever to come down to the lobby, and even longer to get to Dean’s floor. He opens his door and walks straight through the kitchen into the living room, flopping down on the couch. He doesn’t bother turning the lights on.

“Guess I gotta deal with that now, too,” he mumbles. He opens his phone, swiping away all of the random Facebook notifications and app updates, leaving ‘12 Missed Calls’ and ‘8 New Voicemails’ on the screen. Dean groans again and starts listening. The first one is from Sam, calling to see when Dean would make it to the party. The next is Lisa, wondering when he’d get to her house so she’d know when to be ready. The next several are also from her, increasingly angry as she realized Dean wasn’t coming, calling him some choice words that he winces at. The last one is especially nasty. After Lisa, there’s a call from Bobby, saying that Lisa called him, warning Dean to call her back. As the final message plays, there’s silence. Dean is about to hit ‘delete’ when he hears a gruff voice.

‘Hello Dean.’ Cas’s voice fills Dean’s ears. He checks the timestamp, realizing Cas had called him as he was driving home.

‘I was just calling to ask when exactly ‘later’ was, and where you would be seeing me. You left before we could discuss the details of our next meal outing. Let me know when you receive this message.’ The tone beeps, and the phone announces the end of the message, offering to delete it or replay. Dean presses cancel and sits in shock.

_ Did he forget what happened? _ The message had no indication Cas had even realized what Dean did. Just asking when they can get lunch again.  _ Did he not even realize that I- that I kissed him? ...Am I out of practice? Or maybe that happens to him all the time and he just doesn’t notice it. Who else is kissing Cas?  _ Dean is surprised at how angry the thought suddenly makes him.  _ Fuck, why do I care? _ He grunts and falls back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

_ What’s wrong with me?  _ His thoughts drift, and so does his energy. As Dean falls asleep, he hears a sound far away, faint. A low whine. A heart monitor.


	11. Impossibly Bright

Dean is running.

They’re following him, he knows it. He runs along the fence, following it to the road. The night sky above has no stars, but the moon is impossibly bright. Trees loom to his right, a forest shaking in rough wind, but he feels nothing on his skin but his own sweat and the pounding of his heart. 

He looks back for an instant to confirm what he already knows: they’re gaining on him. He runs, pouring his energy into a last sprint towards the highway. If he can get across, maybe some cars will slow them down. 

But when he gets there, he realizes it’s not a road, it’s the ocean, and he’s standing at a cliffside. Rocks jut out from the water’s surface below, waves crashing at the foot of the cliff, howling for Dean to jump in.

He turns around, now feeling the harsh breeze pushing him back. The sky is dark and the creatures are closing in. He can see them getting closer, and his heart beats faster and faster as they fold the space between them and him. They pounce, and Dean can feel them scratch at his neck as he falls back, sprawling off the edge.

The disk of the moon gets brighter, and Dean falls onto a cold floor. The light above him is a fluorescent bulb, dimly illuminating the room. There are curtains like makeshift walls, and white paint everywhere. The floor is tiled blue.

‘Dean…’ A voice calls, distant, from behind a curtain. He knows he doesn’t want to see what’s behind it. The curtain gets darker and the voice grows more insistent. ‘Dean!’

Tears well up in his eyes as he runs from the room, out into the hallway. The smell of oil and gas hits him, and he watches as men lift a car up to work under it. He walks around them, deeper into the garage, the walls stretching forward and down like a neverending cave. The only light is from the sparks of the workers’ tools and the flames in their eyes. Dean feels them stare at him as he passes.

Finally he reaches the door, the office door where the window is closed with the blinds down. He hears yelling inside. He hears a familiar whimper, and Dean throws the door open to run to Sammy’s side. He’s crying, and so is Dean.

A man is yelling at him, and a fist hits Dean’s back. He pushes Sammy out of the room as another fist brings him to the ground. He hits the floor and the water is cold against his skin.

Dean lifts his head for air and swims to the side of the pool, looking to see if his dad was watching. He wasn’t. Upset, Dean climbs out and sits in the chair next to his father, crossing his arms. His father makes a comment about Dean being weak. He tries not to cry again. His face is already wet.

A man walks in front of them, casting a large shadow. John takes out a shotgun and shoots the man in the chest. Dean watches silently as the man’s body falls into the pool, the water turning red. Hands emerge and pull the corpse down, and reach for Dean as well. He screams and John calls him weak. Dean chokes backs his screams as the hands pull him under.

He can feel the blood fill his lungs as the light gets fainter. When he drowns, he’s sitting in a chair. There’s a spotlight shining down, and pure darkness ahead.

It’s silent here. Pure, black, matterless dark surrounds him, and he huffs until he catches his breath. His heart slows down, and he can hear it beat. He relaxes. There’s no danger anymore, and everything is over. He cries quietly, his small hands wiping at his tears. He’s four, and his toys are strewn around his chair. There are his favorite cars, a blanket his grandmother gave him, a sailboat, some bouncy balls. A tiny piano sits, the colorful keys waiting to be played. Dean is comfortable, the seat cushion warming him. He sits back, letting his body rest.

‘Dean…’ the voice calls. A heart monitor whines in the darkness. He gets up from the chair, and the spotlight follows him as he walks toward the voice. As he gets closer, the light shows a hospital bed, and she’s lying on it. She calls to him to come closer.

“Mom,” Dean cries, walking to her side. His mother can’t sit up, but she’s holding out her hand. He takes it in his.

“It’s going to be okay, kiddo.” She smiles at him, shifting the tube running across her face. She breathes in and out. Dean whimpers and buries his face in the mattress. He can hear the sounds of a busy hospital in the hallway, and the heart monitor beside him drowning it all out. It beeps every second or so.

“You’re gonna be a good big brother, right?” She ruffles his hair. “Samuel will need one, won’t he?”

“But what about you, mom?” Dean asks, lifting his head. She leans her head on her pillow.

“I have to go, baby, but it’ll be okay,” she tells him, a tear escaping her eye. It falls down her cheek, running along the tube. Dean gasps for air and begs her not to go. “I’m sorry, sweetie, I wish I could stay. But while I’m gone, I’m leaving you in charge, okay?” Dean cries and stares at his mother. She smiles.

“Be strong for me, Dean.” Her eyes unfocus, and she stares forward, her mouth hanging open. The monitor whines loudly, and people rush into the room. He cries as doctors and nurses hum around her, and resists when one tries to move him away. He watches silently as they give up. He closes her eyes, and a voice behind him calls his name.

“Dean.” The voice isn’t as rough as it’s supposed to be. He turns around, and instead of his uncle, a man in a trench coat stands in the doorway. He has black hair, stubble, and a blue tie. He’s looking at Dean with the same concern his mother was.

“Cas,” he gasps, and he runs into his arms. The world spins away while the men hug, Dean crying into his friend’s shoulder. Castiel holds him tightly, and his mother sings until they’re gone.

“Be strong for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like it, please let me know! I have a lot of stuff going on right now but I'll make time to write more of this if people like it.


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